


[citation needed]

by Auntie_Diluvian



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Corrupt Politicians, Investigative Journalism, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-23 01:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16609292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auntie_Diluvian/pseuds/Auntie_Diluvian
Summary: Your latest scoop, in addition to being the biggest story of your career, has the added bonus of reuniting you with an old friend.You're beginning to think he knows more than he's letting on, though, and he's already told you a LOT.





	1. Chapter 1

“have i ever let’cha down before?” he asked, resting his arms on the back of the plastic chair he had pulled up beside your desk.

You lowered the folder he had given you to peer at him doubtfully over your reading glasses.

“okay. yeah, that's... fair, uhh, but--”

“--It's fine, Sans. This is actually really fantastic. Thank you.”

His grin widened.

“‘course. don't sound so surprised. and the money, uhh…?”

“Have I ever let you down before?”

He chuckled, nodding.

“nah, not you. this whole-” he waved a hand around above his head to indicate the mess of desks around the room. “-uh, fine journalistic establishment, though? ehh…”

“File a complaint, then.”

He shrugged and backed away, hands in his pockets.

“nah, think i'll just make a ‘bot that spams nasty ad hominem comments for the website. see ya ‘round.”

You jiggled your pen as you flipped through the evidence he'd just given you again. Shit, it was even better than you thought, if it all checked out. Or, well, no. Worse, in general. Better for _you_.

You'd been working on this story for months, and it was so tricky, so delicate, you'd resorted to paying someone, _anyone_ to come forward with information.

Which had, of course, gotten you a lot of bullshit to sift through, but it had also brought Sans back out of the woodwork, to your abject surprise.

The thing about him was that he knew _everybody_ , and that was a trait that had gotten you in and out of so much trouble back when you were first starting out. You had come to rely on him as a source when you were in a tight spot. If you hit a dead end, you'd call Sans and roughly sixty percent of the time, he knew just who you needed to talk to and how to get at them. Though he also had a penchant for pranking you that had nearly gotten you fired, once. He'd sent you on a glorified scavenger hunt and because of it, you nearly missed your deadline. Then one day, he had just disappeared. Poof. If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again. Of course, you’d gotten on just fine without him, but every now and again, you’d find yourself wondering what he’d gotten up to in the years since then.

And he had just handed you what might be the last of the evidence you would need to finally go to print. It occurred to you that after this, he might very well just disappear again, and that would be… well, kind of sad, honestly.

You pursed your lips as you focused in on where he stood, waiting for the elevator, and hastily snatched up your various accoutrements and jogged over to join him. He gave you a once-over with a crooked smile.

“what, did you forget to kiss me goodbye?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Well, that, and I'm going to lunch. Thought maybe you'd like to join me. For old time's sake.”

“oh yeah?”

“...Fine, and I'll admit I'm dying to know how you got in with Senator Andersen’s crowd.”

He looked at you critically as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

“on or off the record?” he asked, stepping inside to face you.

“Off! Off, obviously.”

The elevator doors started to close between you, but he held out an arm to stop them.

“well, uh, i’ve already eaten…”

You tried to conceal your disappointment.

“Maybe another time, then.”

The doors tried closing a second time.

“...but i could be convinced to eat a slice of pie, maybe a cup o’ coffee…”

You brightened considerably, getting in the elevator with him.

“your treat.”

“I know,” you chirped.

 

\---  


 

You leaned back in the booth, digesting the story he'd just told you and your chicken salad sandwich.

You shook your head after a long moment.

“I mean, Jesus, Sans, ever hear of a sense of self-preservation?”

“maybe. lemme google it, how's it spelled?”

“Ha. Right, well, it's quite a story. Any of it true?”

“mm, the good parts,” he replied with a wink.

You nodded, popping a fragment of potato chip in your mouth.

“How was your pie?”

He shrugged.

“s’alright.”

“Really? Just okay? That's such a shame, I picked this place just because I heard they had good pie.”

“not really much of a pie guy,” he said, chopping up his crust into tiny crumbles.

“Then why'd you want pie to begin with?”

“dunno. guess it's somethin’ about talkin’ to reporters that makes you want pie.”

“Ah. Then that's your own fault for watching too much TV.”

“is that what it is.”

“You ever see a movie about a journalist that didn't have a pie scene? It's a thing.”

You glanced at the clock behind the diner’s main counter and groaned.

“Damn, I don’t wanna go back to work,” you whined.

“really? thought you’d be excited to bust this thing wide open.”

“Oh, I am, I am. But really, the exciting part’s done, thanks to you, and the rest is just crossing T's and dotting I’s. And, y’know, work is work.”

He nodded, mashing his crust crumbs with his fork into a new crust on his plate.

“then don’t.”

“Sorry, what?”

“don’t go back to work. order yourself a coffee. stay here.”

“What’s your angle?”

“no angle. just like bein’ a bad influence, sometimes. do drugs. buy yourself a roomba. sell herbalife on facebook. and you know, you can never have too many cats.”

“Wow. If I listened to you, I’d really be living life on the edge.”

“‘s why i gotta work my magic sparingly. can’t have society collapsing in on itself all in a rush to impress little ol’ me.”

He flagged your waiter over.

“‘nother coffee, please. for my friend, here.”

“Ah, no, I don’t think so. Just the check, please.”

The waiter scratched his head, glancing quizzically between the two of you.

“was worth a shot,” he said, shrugging.

As the waiter went back behind the counter to find your ticket, Sans shifted in the bench across from you, lifting his hips off the seat to reach for his wallet.

“Please, it’s on me. My treat, remember?”

“aw c’mon, i was jokin’ about that.”

“Still, I asked you to come here with me and I wanted to thank you for all your help,” you argued.

He chuckled.

“i’m still gettin’ paid for it, right? if you’re tryin’ to get out of that, i’ll need a little more than a slice of mediocre cherry pie and a cup of coffee.”

“You’re still getting paid,” you reassured him, grinning, “but just let me get this. It’ll be easier on our server if we don’t split the check.”

He flashed his palms. “can’t argue with that, but at least let me get the tip.”

You squinted at him in mock deliberation.

“Fine.”

The matter of the check settled for the time being, he reached for his wallet again, only to freeze, then check his other pockets with a swiftness you hadn’t known he had in him.

“uh, shit. um. i’m sure it’s nothin’ to worry about. i probably just left it at home. or maybe i took it out of my pocket when i sat down at your desk. aw, shit, this is embarrassing, after i made all that fuss… fuck…”

You had never seen him quite so ruffled, and a feeling in the pit of your stomach had you thinking you would be lucky if his wallet was only missing due to an uncharacteristic bout of absent-mindedness.

“I’m so sorry, I know how nerve-wracking that is. For now let’s retrace our steps, and maybe it’ll turn up along the way.”

“yeah, you’re prob’ly right,” he said, glancing away when you put some cash down for the tip.

You paused at the diner door and buttoned up your coats before trudging out into the snow, eyes peeled and spirits tense.


	2. Chapter 2

The main floor of your office at midday could be stifling with the thermostat unable to keep pace with the sun coming in through the windows, and after power walking the three blocks back from the diner, you were slightly out of breath and sweat began to accumulate at your hairline. You quickly shed your coat en route back to your desk, but noticed that Sans didn't, despite the fact he was breathing a little harder than you and his skull shone with perspiration.

“i dunno what i was expecting,” he said, examining your desk.

“Hey, it's always the last place you look,” you said, unhelpfully. “Uh, why don't we go check lost and found before we give up looking here.”

Lost and Found was just a bin in your supervisor’s closet, but he denied anyone bringing him anything in a week or more, and nothing so valuable as a wallet, so you returned to your desk.

“I'll send out an email. Maybe it fell out of your pocket and someone picked it up and is just waiting for someone to ask about it before they hand it over to just anyone… Maybe they'll mail it to you. Is your address on your ID current?”

He rubbed at his jaw.

“yeah... yeah, maybe.”

You were getting too worked up, you were making him nervous, too.

“uh, listen, i don't wanna sound paranoid, but-”

“-No! I mean, if ever there was a time to be paranoid, it's now!”

“uh, thanks, i guess, but… you do still have the file i gave ya, right?”

“Yes, of course,” you said, reaching for your desk drawer. “I put it in here, and I always keep it… locked.”

It offered no resistance to your pull, and you found it empty. You wanted to crawl inside it and lock it like you should have (and could swear you _had_ ) done an hour ago.

“No,” you squeaked, pitifully.

You turned to Sans, shame-faced, waterworks threatening to bring down the house at any second.

“ooh. yeah, yikes.”

“I'm so sorry,” you said, sniffling. “I'm gonna make this right.”

“oh, hey, don't worry about it too mu-”

Too late, you were already across the aisle, accosting Jason with a hand planted on his desk.

“Did you see someone fucking with my desk? Or was it you, you jealous, greedy bastard?”

“I just got back from my daughter's field trip, and I write sports. Can you, like, take this somewhere else, please?” he said, half to you and half over your shoulder to Sans.

“maybe we should go look somewhere else,” came the reasonable suggestion from behind you.

“Of course. I'm sorry, Jason,” you called as you were led across the floor back to the elevators, “How was the field trip?”

“Terrible. Two kids passed out from the stench.”

“That _is_ terrible,” you agreed as the elevator doors closed. “Where are we going? You don't seem worried at all.”

“my place. i kept copies of the stuff i gave you, and... i wanna check somethin’.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“don't mention it.”

The wind had picked up in the short time you'd been indoors, and the cold paid your coat and scarf no mind, but it was a surprisingly short walk to his building.

You gasped when he opened his door.

“Oh, no, no. Sans-”

“oh, uh, yeah, it’s a little-”

“They got your apartment, too! I can't believe this!”

“they... got?- yeah, shit fuck, this is awful. hoo boy. can’t believe the nerve of ‘em.”

“This is… more dangerous than I thought. And I'm so sorry, I feel like this is all my fault.”

“no, no- shit, hey, it's ok? right? don't uh, don't be so hard on yourself, i’m fine, y’know?”

You straightened your spine.

“You're right. This is someone else's fault entirely, and theirs alone. I'm calling the police.”

“now, let's just think about this for a second-”

“What's there to think about? Your place is completely trashed! I mean, I admire your aplomb, certainly, but I think we're a little in over our heads, now!”

You tripped over a garbage bag on your way across the foyer, and suddenly, the nature of the mess made more sense.

“Wait,” you said, squinting.

He blushed, tugging the garbage bag upright and out of your way.

You let out a long, kind of impressed whistle. “My bad.”

“used to pay a lady to come and clean every other week, but then she faked her death to get out of it, so i figured, if it’s that bad, who am i to push, y’know? i get it.”

“Well, I'm just glad your place wasn't broken into, after all. Then again, how would you ever know?”

“maybe that woulda been for the best. they’d‘ve had to clean the place up a bit to find what they were lookin’ for. speakin’ of which, i'll just go grab my file. uh, stay there, you do not wanna see my bedroom if you think _this_ is bad.”

He returned seconds later with a folder containing everything he'd already given you, and you thumbed through it, sighing with relief.

“God, thank you so much for this. I owe you.”

“nah, ‘s not a big deal, i always keep copies.”

“You know, I wouldn't have pegged you for the cautious type.”

“i’m not usually, but with information? i’ve learned my lesson there, you don't wanna lose information.”

You shrugged. “That's why I do what I do… I… don't guess your wallet magically appeared on your dresser or anything like that?”

“no such luck. but hey, don't go worryin’ about me. most of what was in there is replaceable.”

“And what wasn't…?”

“well, if it was just a common thief, i'll be ok. like i said, don't worry about it. i can handle it. in the meantime, let's get you back to work. i wanna see this thing in the headlines on sunday.”

You snorted.

“Well _maybe_ , but you don't have to walk me back. I'm a grownup, I know to look both ways before crossing the street. I'll let myself out. And um… good luck, Sans. I hope I'll see you again.”

You backed toward the door, minding the garbage.

“oh. right,” he said, jamming his hands down in his coat pockets. “well, that’s-- yeah, nevermind. bye.”

You huffed and crossed your arms.

“Okay, spit it out.”

“just- y’know, be careful. i’m just... startin’ to wonder if your story isn’t about to get a lot bigger than a little tax fraud.”

You raised your eyebrows, but his tone had the hair on your arms raised as well.

“Sans, what do you know?”

“i’m not sure yet. just got a hunch. i’ll uh, call you tonight.”

The two of you stared at each other, unblinking, until you finally shook it off.

“You’re a cryptic bastard, you know that?”

He chuckled.

“yeah, yeah, i know. get outta here. an’ be caref-”

“I will, I will!”

You trudged back to your office, cracking your knuckles. It was time to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is... all I have written of this so far. And probably most of the chapters from this point on will be equally short? I've never written a like... suspense/intrigue/mystery before, so I'm not really trying to impress anyone with this? Also I fully intend to keep it going but for now I'm just having fun posting some of my WIPs that I've just been kind of holding on to for a while. So next Sunday it'll be something different. But also, more of the same, kinda. Skeletons, romantic/sexual tension. You Know The Drill.


End file.
